


Fireborn

by dragonspell



Category: Supernatural RPF
Genre: M/M, Mythology - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-08-24
Updated: 2012-08-24
Packaged: 2017-11-12 19:36:06
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,570
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/494904
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dragonspell/pseuds/dragonspell
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Past the Sundering Wood and the lands of Clan Werlow, beyond Newbridge Falls and Barlow River, it was known that the world ceased to be. It was also known that a man traveling beyond the edge of the world ran the risk of falling off of it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Fireborn

**Author's Note:**

> Written for anyothergirl415's 2012 salt_burn_porn prompt of "winter is coming." I blame Game of Thrones and Dragon Age for this. Just sayin'.

Sunstreaker danced to the side, nickering as his hooves crunched on the frost-covered grass of the clearing. The reins jingled as the old warhorse tossed his head from side to side, his nose in the air to scent the wind that whistled through the otherwise dead silence of the forest. In the half-light that had coated the world for days now, even the bare trees were starting to look like monsters, their half-formed shadows stretching out in front of them and their long, spindled fingers curving towards the unwelcome guests in their midst.

Jared shifted, the saddle creaking underneath him and patted Sunstreaker's side, his gloved hand thumping soundly. "Easy," he said, his voice no louder than a whisper but sounding as piercing as a scream. Distorted echoes reverberated around him, as if the looming trees had developed the ability to talk. For all Jared knew, they had. This was the Edge of the World, after all. Perhaps he had ridden right out of the mortal world and into one of legend.

Past the Sundering Wood and the lands of Clan Werlow, beyond Newbridge Falls and Barlow River, it was known that the world ceased to be. It was also known that a man traveling beyond the edge of the world ran the risk of falling off of it. Even the wandering caravans had scoffed at anything existing beyond the Barlow's deceptively smooth waters that stretched for miles in either direction. "What is there beyond worth knowing?" one driver had replied with a laugh. Jared had once been young enough to ask, back before the raids had given him his fill of traveling. "Nothing but emptiness—and then, there would a man meet his maker. East or south, my friend. Everyone knows that there is nothing past Clan Werlow." He'd clicked to his team, the horses as big as houses, and his old wagon had rolled away, heading eastward to Kippering. Jared had not seen him again. Perhaps he had found the other edge of the world. 

As he'd grown older, Jared had been content. He'd had the wood, and the meandering Sumnee River and the plains to the south where the cattle grazed. He'd had the honor of being the First and defending the clan from outsiders. He'd ridden for days and never reached the end of the wood, had never even seen Barlow River and while he'd heard tales of it, he'd had his doubts that it existed. That was, until he'd almost drowned in it. If it hadn't been for Sunstreaker, he would have been in the embrace of the river god.

Instead, he wandered.

He itched at the scar that glared angry and red beneath the heavy cuff of his glove. He wanted to pretend that it wasn't there, afraid that it might sink through his skin to his very soul, that it might poison him like it had poisoned others marked with it. It was his disgrace, his punishment—a symbol for the entire world to know. _Dishonor._ His had been carved, not seared; the fire wouldn't have worked. The clan had known that because he should have already been dead—killed in the fire that the Merwins had set, like the rest of his raiding party. He wouldn't call his life after living, however. Jared frowned and covered the scar again. 

The Spine of the World curved around Jared like a slumbering dragon, the high peaks left behind in the fire and ash that had exploded from the mountain, and Jared expected to find the head any day now, nostrils as big as Sunstreaker breathing out the smoke that formed the clouds. The Dragon of Creation slept for eons between awakenings, marking the edge of the world and beyond it, a man would plunge off into the void, exiled from the mortal realm—or so old Huma had said. Her voice, always stronger than her frail body would suggest, echoed in Jared's mind. It was better than the screams that haunted his dreams.

Huma had said that Jared had been born of fire. He'd never known what she meant.

Jared snorted and tightened Sunstreaker's reins. He didn't have time for useless ponderings. He hadn't had to cross Barlow River or fall down Newbridge Falls to find the void; it had found him. If death awaited him around the next bend, be it in the form of the world's end or a dragon's fiery breath, then he might just gladly surrender to its embrace.

He'd already fallen off the edge of the world. He just hadn't known it at the time.

Resettling his fur mantle, he turned Sunstreaker toward what he assumed was the south. Edge of the world or not, winter was coming.

* * *

There was nothing in the wood, not a rabbit, not a bird, not even a buzzing insect and Jared wondered if he had indeed wandered into the world of the dead. When he pitched off Newbridge Falls, perhaps he'd sunk to the bottom and this was the world of the gods.

Sunstreaker, warm and solid beneath him was the only thing that convinced him otherwise.

He didn't know if he'd last long enough to find the edge of the world like Huma had told him. He'd settle for the edge of the dead wood.

* * *

Warmth seared into Jared, piercing through the cold that had encased him and Jared snapped back into the world, jolting awake with a wild swing of his fist. It connected but hands gripped at his arms, pulling him down to the cold ground before blackness swallowed him whole, drowning him in oblivion. Somewhere beyond, he heard Sunstreaker scream in terror but it was distant, far away.

This, he thought, must finally be the edge of the world. He fell.

* * *

Fire crackled and spit, popping against stone. Flames licked at large logs and Jared stared at them curiously. Salamanders, he wondered? Dragon's breath? Did old Huma's dragon really exist? It must. How else would there be fire at the edge of the world? He'd been wandering for days and had found nothing but a half-frozen wasteland.

"There's food on the table." Jared jerked upright, heavy furs slumping to his waist and he grabbed them up again, realizing that his clothes had gone missing. No longer did the biting cold envelope him, however. Instead, his body was infused with warmth. His eyes darted across his surroundings, taking in the room that he found himself in. Stonework enclosed him, hewn blocks artfully stacked and mortared together to form tall, sturdy walls and an arching ceiling. A castle, then, he thought: a castle at the edge of the world. Intricately carved wood dipped and twined into furniture. Two chairs with thick cushions sat to the side of a crackling fireplace. Jared stared at the flames. It had been so long since he'd seen fire—since it had carried him across Barlow River and plunged him down Newbridge Falls. It called to him. "If you're hungry."

Jared turned on the bed, his hands digging into the soft furs and regarded the man lying next to him. Jared's age or possibly a few years older, he hardly looked like someone Jared would find at the edge of the world. He was handsome but not overly so, not like how Jared always pictured the gods to be. His body was well-formed from what Jared could see. Jared followed the smooth lines of white skin down and down and down to where the furs that Jared had dislodged just barely covered the man's modesty and then snapped back to the eyes that burned like green fire. Maybe the man was only appearing to be mortal. The man's lips quirked into a smile. "Am I dead?" Jared asked. _There would a man meet his maker…_

The man's smile broadened. "No." He stretched past Jared, his body moving into Jared's space and Jared's breath caught in his throat, his eyes traveling downward to where the furs were slipping before he squeezed them shut. He'd been warned about his wandering eyes before. "Here," the man said. "Eat." Something warm and soft grazed Jared's fingertips but he didn't have the wherewithal to grab a hold. The man's voice was the first human sound that Jared had heard beyond his own since the screams had drowned him in the void. Fingers played along Jared's skin, sliding over his wrist and Jared shivered. He had forgotten—what it meant to touch, to be touched. "Eat," the man repeated, pressing the food against Jared's lips. Jared opened his eyes.

There was mystery in the man's eyes, forming a thousand questions that hovered on Jared's tongue but Jared didn't know which to ask first or if he should ask any at all. As he watched, the man bent his head and soft lips pressed against Jared's own. The questions died unspoken, collapsing in on themselves until only one remained. "Who…?"

"Jensen," the man replied. "And I have been waiting for you for a very long time." Jensen's fingers wrapped around Jared's wrist and slid upward, tracing over the mark cut into Jared's skin. Jared tried to pull away but the man held him steady. "The fire didn't touch you. Only the blades could." Hows and whys pushed their way into Jared's throat again, begging to be voiced, but, somehow, Jared knew that they didn't need to be asked. "Me, too," Jensen said and held up his bare arm, holding it across Jared's vision for inspection.

The skin was smooth, unblemished to Jared's eyes but at Jensen's nod, he raised his hand and tentatively ran his fingertips over the offered limb to find a small raised whorl that mirrored the angry lines of his own scar—softer, gentler and very nearly gone but still there. "It heals," Jensen said and kissed Jared again, startling him into forgetting the rising questions again. 

Jensen's touch burned like fire never did, never had. Jared pressed closer into the heat, wanting more, desperate to feel, and Jensen met him, unmovable and welcoming. Jensen's tongue licked at Jared's lips, asking permission for something Jared didn't understand before slipping inside. Jared welcomed it, opening wider. His blood raced, his breath quickened, and he raised his hands to cup Jensen's face, holding him to better drown in the offered fire.

Hands skimmed up Jared's chest, feeling, exploring, before griping at his shoulders and urging him backward. The furs dipped further as Jensen rose up, sliding his body overtop of Jared's and straddling Jared's waist, his legs pressing against Jared's sides. Jared gasped, swallowing air, and looked down to where Jensen joined with him, Jensen's arousal resting against Jared's stomach, rubbing against his skin. Jensen captured him in another kiss.

It felt as if, somehow, he had known this man since the dawn of time, that, even though he'd only just met Jensen, he had been waiting for him. He touched Jensen's skin, trailed down his sides, and shivered at Jensen's quiet gasp, Jensen's pleasure echoing through him. The fire crackled in the background, filling the silence of the room, but Jared could barely hear beyond the wild thump of his heart.

He shuddered as Jensen broke away to kiss under his jaw, lips teasing at the sensitive skin, sending sparks of pleasure radiating through the whole of him. Jensen licked and sucked and nipped until Jared forced him back upward, unable to stand anymore. His body trembled as if it were about to explode, the fire inside him barely contained by his skin. Everything was burning away in its flames, cleansed by heat and turned to ash. The past, the present, the future—none of it mattered. The clan was gone, turned to cinder, his old life burned with it. There was nothing but Jensen and Jared ached to have him.

Jensen kissed him slowly, easing him away from a precipice Jared hadn't known he was standing on. Jared clutched at Jensen, half-afraid of burning up in the fire inside him and half-afraid of dying in the cold if he did not. He did not want to release Jensen, some part of him convinced that this would all disappear like a dream beyond the Veil. He held Jensen and prayed that if it were a dream, it would never end.

"Open your eyes," Jensen whispered and Jared obeyed. "Watch me." He slid downward, slipping from Jared's grip, moving Jared's hands from his sides to his shoulders and then to his hair where Jared's fingers buried. "Watch." His eyes branded Jared, searing into him, and Jared stared transfixed, like a child before a flame. Jensen kissed his way down Jared's chest, his tongue licking a hot trail across Jared's sternum and down his belly. He gave the vulnerable skin a soft nip, smiling at how Jared jumped, and swirled his tongue around Jared's navel, dipping inside. Jared scarcely dared to breathe.

He was burning alive.

Jensen brushed his cheek against Jared's engorged length and Jared shuddered, his hips twitching upward at the promise in Jensen's eyes. He groaned at the first touch of Jensen's wet tongue and his eyes fluttered closed. Whispered pleas for mercy fell from his lips and his hands clenching in Jensen's hair were all that kept him grounded, all that kept him from burning up and blowing away like ash. Jensen's soft lips moved against his sensitive skin, teasing the length of him before slipping over the tip, drawing him into the warmth of Jensen's mouth. Jared hissed, his hips arching off the bed until Jensen forced them back down. Pleasure coursed through him, overwhelming him, and Jared was lost, surrendering completely to Jensen's desires.

Wet, slick sounds echoed in counterpoint to the fire and the thrum of blood racing through Jared's veins as Jensen swallowed him, taking him down to halfway before rising back up again, moving in a rhythm that had Jared's hips begging to follow. He twitched and jerked in Jensen's grasp, helpless before his body's reactions and the fire that burned inside him. Jensen kept him there, suspended on the edge of an inferno until Jared was sure that he'd be consumed. 

"Not yet," Jensen told him, pulling away. Jared sat up, reaching for Jensen, afraid of being left forever in the cold. Jensen moved easily into his grasp, slipping back into Jared's lap, and settling the warm weight of his body over Jared's hips. Jared's hands fumbled over Jensen's body, unsure where to touch first or second or third and Jensen grabbed them, bringing them together over his chest. "Here," he said and flattened Jared's palms against his skin, letting Jared feel the beat of his heart, feel how it mirrored Jared's own.

Jensen kissed him again, his tongue driving back into Jared's mouth as he forced Jared back down to the bed, kneeling over him. His heart thumped hard and fast beneath Jared's palms and he reached down between his legs to grip Jared in one steady hand, holding him upright to brush against Jensen's body. Jared followed him when he leaned back up, unwilling to let him go, only to flop back to the bed as hot, tight warmth surrounded him.

Jared writhed helplessly, his back arching. Jensen took him into his own body, joining them together, engulfing Jared in a fire hot enough to sear. Jensen's mouth opened in a small gasp of pleasure as he lowered himself down, so slow and steady that the flames burning inside of Jared threatened to reduce him to ash before Jensen was even halfway down.

It was unlike anything he'd ever felt before, hot and tight and somehow slick. The village elders would have called it unnatural, perverse—an abomination just as they had labeled Jared before cutting into his flesh. Jared called it none of those things. He had never felt anything so pleasurable before, nothing so perfect. It he wasn't in the land of the gods, if Jensen wasn't a divine creation of the maker sent to bring him serenity, then Jared never wanted to die. He wanted to live forever in this one moment. 

Jensen settled, Jared completely inside of his body, filling himself in a way that made Jared's mind loop in endless circles, that made his heart threaten to beat out of his chest, that made the fire inside him rage. Jensen's eyes were open but they were glazed, unseeing, and his mouth was open as he panted softly. Jared bit back a whimper and Jensen's gaze cleared, swinging downward to look at him. His lips stretched into another smile and fingers trailed over Jared's cheek, stroking gently before cupping Jared's face. He began to move, his hips rolling in small, even circles. 

Jared's entire body jerked and his hips slammed upward into Jensen's waiting heat, drawing a small moan out of Jensen. Jensen braced himself on top of Jared, placing a hand against Jared's chest to keep himself upright. Jared rocked his hips again, watching the minute play of muscles in Jensen's faces, how they twitched downward in a small grimace and then released again. Instinct demanded that Jared thrust again, drive himself into Jensen's offered heat until he knew nothing else but reason held him back. He stroked his hands over Jensen's neck, his chest, and down to rest on Jensen's thighs. Jensen was still hard, his length brushing Jared's stomach with each small roll of Jensen's hips. Curiosity made Jared bold; he gently ran his fingertips over Jensen's cock.

Jensen shivered and grabbed Jared's hand, pressing it against himself and squeezing. "Like that," he whispered, guiding Jared's hand, teaching him how to please Jensen. "Again." Jared froze, confused, until Jensen rocked downward. "Again," he repeated and Jared knew. He thrust upward again, giving into to instinct, and Jensen moaned, his head lolling forward.

Together they found a rhythm, thrusting, rocking, grinding—Jensen showing Jared what his body already fumbled blindly for. Jensen's hands were everywhere, skimming over Jared's skin, stroking the fire that was already burning out of control. It overpowered Jared, ridding him of his mind, consuming everything he was and leaving nothing but pleasure behind. He shouted, his hands tightening, desperate for something—anything—to hold onto, to keep him from burning up.

The fire inside him banked, turning to smoldering coals and infusing Jared with a contented heat. He shuddered, his breath shaky and collapsed against the bed, feeling as if he had been completely used up by the fire, consumed with nothing but hazy smoke left. Above him, he could still hear Jensen's harsh pants, could still feel Jensen moving, using him. He forced his eyes open and drank in the sight of Jensen straining, thighs bunching, muscles tightening, heading towards the same inferno that Jared had just emerged from.

Jensen forced Jared's hand tighter around himself and threw back his head, his teeth sinking into his bottom lip. He spasmed, his body shuddering, and coated Jared's hand in slick warmth, then crumpled forward as if he could no longer hold himself upright. He flattened himself against Jared's chest, his body boneless and fluid, heavy but not unwelcome. His cheek pressed against Jared's shoulder, his hair tickling Jared's chin and Jared's breath stuck in his throat. He had to swallow before he could exhale. 

Silence settled between them, broken only by the crackle of the fire and, if Jared listened closely, a sound of wind blowing outside. Was he still in the frozen wood?

Jensen sighed, his entire body seeming to rise and fall, and turned his head toward Jared. His eyes still burned with fire, reflecting back the light of the flames that danced shadows along his skin. With the blaze inside him subsiding, however, questions surfaced in Jared's mind. "Are you a god?" he asked.

Smiling, Jensen shook his head. "No. Are you?"

Jared's brow furled. He didn't understand the question. He avoided it. "Where's my horse?"

"In the stables," Jensen replied and yawned as he sat upright.

"Where—" Jensen held a finger to Jared's lips.

"Later," he said. Jared stared up at him and tried to speak again, thousands of questions circling through his mind—where was he, what had happened to the clans, had anyone else survived the explosion and river of fire that had carried him to the Barlow, how did Jensen live at the edge of the world—but Jensen shook his head again. He leaned upwards and replaced his finger with his lips, soft and undemanding but firm. "Just be for now." He dropped his eyes to the scar on Jared's arm, tracing the angry gashes with a fingertip. "It'll heal, like everything else. All scars fade in time." He glanced back up to Jared. "You and I, we'll have a lot of time." Before Jared could ask what he meant, Jensen rolled off of him, leaning to grab the furs that had been kicked down to the end of the bed. "Winter is coming," he said, tossing the covers overtop of Jared and bedding down beside him, his body curling around Jared's. "But summer's already here."

That, Jared understood. Despite his questions, for the first time in a long time, Jared felt something blooming inside him, a small kernel of white hot that felt like hope. Sleep beckoned and Jared let it pull him under.

Later, he'd ask his questions and later Jensen would give him his answers but, for now, he slept.


End file.
